Boll Over
by Random Guise
Summary: Oliver and Lisa Douglas have their cotton crop infested with boll weevils. What will they do? I don't own these characters, but I have driven a tractor before.


Boll Over

"Mr. Douglas," Mr. Haney addressed the suit-clad farmer "you have a full-blown case of weevils in your cotton bolls. I'm sorry, but your crop is lost."

"He's right you know" Hank Kimball agreed. "The only way to get rid of them is with chemicals, and we've banned them this year while we study what it's doing to the drinking water. I suppose you could get rid of the plants, then the weevils would fall to their deaths. But then you'd have dead weevils lying around. That'll bring birds, then you'll be invaded by feral cats..."

Oliver Wendell Douglas shook his head. Law was easy compared to farming; if it wasn't one thing it was another. Insects, too much or too little water, the government, a fluctuating market and inept help all added to his woes. All he wanted to do was raise crops, to feel the earth beneath his feet as he worked the ground for it's bounty.

"...and when the wolves show up..." Hank was still rambling. Soon he'd lose his train of thought and wander off.

"And I suppose" Douglas addressed Haney "that you have some wonderful and expensive cure for my problems." Haney's business exterior thinly disguised his con man interior.

"Nope." That was unusual; without trying to sell something Haney must actually be telling the truth.

"You want me to start plowing it up?" Eb Dawson offered. A young man with boundless energy and quite earnest, he didn't necessarily have the smarts to run his own farm but he was a good worker when it came down to it.

"No Eb, not yet. Maybe tomorrow if I don't come up with something. Thank you gentlemen, I appreciate your opinions." They made their way off the farm while Oliver went back into his ramshackle house. Alf and Ralph Monroe had attempted a few repairs, but each attempt seemed to end up worse for the house.

"Lisa!" Oliver called as he entered the front room.

"Ah-Lee-Vah" she said, pronouncing his name with her Hungarian accent while coming in from the kitchen; Oliver didn't even notice it anymore unless she was trying to pronounce a new word. "What is it?"

"It's bad Lisa. Those weevils can't be killed with anything that can possibly get into the water. Our crop is hopeless now."

"Can't you build a mousetrap for them or something? Maybe you can just step on them when they are crawling on the ground" she suggested.

"I don't think they're all going to line up for me to a dance on their bodies" Oliver lamented. I'm just going to bed."

Later, they lay in their bedroom while Oliver was reading the Bible. Lisa looked over at the cover. "Are you looking for help from the Big Guy, or just expecting locusts next?" she asked.

"Neither, just consoling myself at my loss." He closed the book. "If we could just lure them away from the farm, our troubles would be solved."

"Yes, but then we would just give the problem to someone else. The cotton bolls are like candy to them, and even if we drove them away it wouldn't be nice if the Ziffels got our problem."

"No, I don't suppose so. Goodnight Lisa."

"Goodnight Oliver. Pleasant dreams." Later that night Lisa awoke and looked over to see her husband twitching in his sleep. It was probably anything but pleasant dreams, but he still needed his rest so she didn't wake him. She drifted back to sleep.

The next morning she was awakened by an excited Oliver. "I had a dream" he said "and I don't know if it will work, but I have to try before I give up. I'm going to go into town; meanwhile, get the two biggest frying pans you have and wait for me." He finished dressing and dashed out of the house.

At Sam Drucker's store Oliver ran in. "Sam, I need the biggest jar of honey you have."

"Sure thing Mr. Douglas, let me get it for you." He disappeared into the back room and returned with a quart jar. "That'll be one dollar please."

"You don't understand, I need a LOT of honey. Like, like..." he looked around to find a container to compare and saw a huge jar on the end of the counter, full of an amber substance. "Like THAT one there" he said pointing.

Sam turned around and looked at it. "That? That's for the Hooterville Honey Festival next spring. That's got to be five gallons of honey!"

Oliver laid down 100 dollars. "I'll take it. It's an emergency."

Sam looked at the money, then the honey, then the money again. "Oh, I guess I have time to get more before the festival. Need any help getting that out?"

"No" Oliver grunted as he strained to carefully hoist the jar. "It's an emergency." He struggled, but managed to take it outside. Sam, perplexed, followed him out to the front of the store as he watched him stagger over to his car and put it in the passenger seat, seat-belting it in securely.

Sam motioned several bystanders over. "Mr. Douglas just paid $100 for five gallons of honey for an emergency!" he said excitedly. The bystanders in turn called others over, and shortly after Oliver had returned to his farm and gotten the honey wrestled out of the car he was able to see a gaggle of townspeople coming up the drive to his house. He disappeared into the house, and briefed Lisa and Ed on what he wanted to do.

In a few minutes a wheelbarrow was secured along with two large trays. Oliver had a tray placed on opposite sides of the field and a mound of honey poured into each. He then stationed himself by one tray and Lisa the other, both with heavy cast iron frying pans at the ready.

Nothing happened at first, but slowly a few weevils started heading from the field to the honey piles. As they got near, they would get mashed with a swing of a cast iron pan; Oliver used a nice backhand while Lisa preferred a two-handed approach. More weevils made their way and the townspeople, at first stunned, joined in the melee by stomping and jumping on the weevils. In less than two hours the entire field was emptied of pests and the crop was saved.

Hank Kimball watched in awe. No chemicals were used, and it was perfectly safe for the water. "Of course" he muttered "the honey will attract bees, which will attract sparrows, which will attract hawks, which will..." but no one paid attention.

Much later in the evening, after everyone had left, Sam Drucker remained for a last moment before departing. "Mr. Douglas, I've never seen the like" he said rubbing his head. "How did you know what to do?" he asked, still astonished.

"I didn't" Oliver admitted. "But while I slept last night, I got an idea how to lure the pests away when an old saying came to me: Honey is the route of all weevils."

The End

* * *

 **A/N: Yes, it is a bad pun, isn't it? Thanks to Loafer for pointing out my idiotic use of 'bowl' instead of 'boll' in the initial posting.**


End file.
